


[PODFIC] Homecoming Night

by Winnychan



Category: TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Family Drama, Gen, Hurt Raphael, Leonardo's Absence, Nightwatcher (TMNT), Podfic, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Tragedy, Voice Acting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 09:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnychan/pseuds/Winnychan
Summary: Leonardo wasn’t fucking coming home. Not today, and maybe not ever.Set one year prior to the TMNT 2007 movie.





	[PODFIC] Homecoming Night

**Text:** HOMECOMING NIGHT

 **Written & Performed By:** WINNYCHAN

 **Length:** 11 minutes 18 seconds

 **Download:** [MP3](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/xwrtebm1u1u8z41/Homecoming_Night.mp3)

* * *

 

It was bound to be an awful night. One of the worst. This day had been doomed from the start. I alone had known this.

They all got upset by my stubborn refusal to participate in their festive, pointless efforts. No, I would not assist Don in cleaning the lair from top to bottom. Or help with the hangin’ of cheesy handmade decorations. Or join in the careful unwrapping of tin foil, or the artful reassembly of Mike’s birthday gig leftovers. The whole thing got mushed together and frosted ta’ form a giant multi-flavored Frankencake monstrosity that said “WELCOME HOME, LEO!” across the top. God, how could they even stand the cloying, too-sweet smell of it? If I never saw another goddamned piece of birthday cake in my life, it would be too soon.

My whole family had been unwilling to face the facts. They kept lookin’ at me with alla’ this hurt and scorn and reprimand every time I said what shoulda been perfectly obvious to everybody.

Leonardo wasn’t fucking coming home. Not today, and maybe not ever.

And it _had_ been obvious. I knew it wasn’t just my usual gloom and paranoia talking. Once upon a time, Leonardo’s letters had come like clockwork. We were gettin’ a steady stream of fat envelopes stuffed with pages and pages of our brother’s too fancy, show-off handwriting. He was sending us a god damn novel every other week in the beginning. Time for another episode of The Amazing Chronicles of Fearless, World Traveler! Be sure to tune in next week for more of his incredible adventures fending off pirates and saving the whales, sticking it to corrupt governments and capitalism, and constant digestive issues from the lack of clean water and the terrible food!

I found endless reasons to bitch and gripe during Mikey’s dramatic readings of those long, rambling letters, but the truth was... I loved ‘em. Splinter kept every single one. Enshrined ‘em in this Tupperware box he kept on a shelf next to all his other cherished mementos. In my most shameful, sappy, lonesome, and stupidly sentimental loser moments, I would creep into the treasure room in the dead of night, open up that box, and look through them. Some I accidentally memorized from doing this so many times.

I made a point never to read them in order. Otherwise it got painfully apparent when they started getting shorter and shorter. The dates on the postmarks began to stretch further and further apart. No more trinkets or pressed exotic plants taped to the pages, no more maps or cute, crude sketches in the margins. Eventually his communications were reduced to an infrequent post card or hasty notes scribbled onto paper scraps. Near the end, you could learn more about his whereabouts from tiny smudges and stains, or the type of paper he had scavenged, than by what he actually wrote.

The very last one came three months ago. All it said was: _Still alive. Please forgive me._

What a fucking waste. Finally I wised up. It was almost a relief when my heart finally hardened enough to stop hoping. Gone was my compulsion to trudge up to the garage every day to check the mailbox. I hadn’t needed to open up that box of Leo’s letters for some time now.

That boat that should have carried our brother home, it was scheduled to dock at 2:30pm. By now the sun had set, which meant I had been proven right. I didn’t stick around to say ‘I told you so’.

Splinter looked up sharply and shouted my name as I was leaving, clearly wantin’ ta stop me. I glanced back with a snarl on his lips, ready for a clash of epic proportions if that was what it was gonna take to get away. Didn’t come to that. Donnie’s wisdom prevailed. Without lifting his head out of his cupped hands, he suggested very flatly, “Please just let him go.”

So I went. Suited up and lashed out at the world with my fists and my manriki. It was the only method of release I could rely on these days. Thugs and petty criminals would pay for Leo’s crimes that night... and so would the rest of the Hamato clan.

I was dangling some poor carjacker off the side of a building, soaking in the pheromones that were pouring off him. A good smell, that terror, but it quickly spoiled by the acrid reek of piss running down the car thief’s leg as he began to cry and beg for mercy.

I very nearly tossed that guy, but… l came to my senses. It was a bad night, a doomed night, and I had come to terms with occasionally crossing my own personal boundaries, but – not tonight. Not because of Leo. Not because of that selfish, spineless fuck! I tossed the punk back to safety, left him hogtied with zip ties and sobbing, his cheek pressed to the pebbled rooftop.

I was determined, after that. I would not cry or rage or kill, because I didn’t care. Tonight was just gonna be business as usual.

But there was no fun or relief in it after that. There were plenty of targets, sure, but I couldn’t get my adrenaline goin’ properly. Couldn’t revel in the violence like I usually did. My limbs started ta feel heavy and slow, sapped of all the strength and momentum that had come so easy at the start of the night.

I was completely discouraged by the time I made it back to my hideout. Parked the bike, hung up the helmet, peeled off the heavy leather suit, left it in the corner in a careless heap. And then, I trudged home, feeling like Leo had somehow cheated me in spite of my best efforts.

—

I could tell something was off the moment I stepped through the door. The big industrial lights which normally lit up the common area were shut off. But it was too early for a night owl like Donatello to be sleeping, especially after such a terrible night. I peered into the gloom and the eerie silence, then lifted my eyes to scan the second level balcony. My gaze caught briefly on the only illumination in sight: the bathroom door cracked slightly open to reveal a thin stripe of pale florescent light.

I went down the stairs and poked my head around the corner to check Don’s lower level computer nook. Glossy black faces of powered down LCD monitors and the beady eyes from LEDs on server racks stared back at me. I drew back with a shudder and continued to wonder at this creeped out feeling which I still hadn’t been able to shake. It was still prickling my skin on my arms and heightening my senses.

I moved towards the couch where my brothers often drifted off these days, but there was nobody there. My eyes were startin’ ta adjust to the dark by now. I glanced down and realized the carpet in front of the couch looked weird. It was littered with something. I nudged the mystery bits with one toe and realized they were made of paper. There was more of it as I glanced around, hundreds of little pieces of paper in all different shapes and shades. This shit is scattered in front of the couch, like so much… confetti?

My heart leaps in my chest suddenly, this traitorous hike of pure elation. If somebody covered the ground in confetti while I was out – had Leonardo come home after all? Maybe he did! Maybe that’s why it was so damn quiet. They might’a all gone out for pizza or something, to celebrate! Maybe the front door was gonna burst open any minute and they would all pile through door, chattering and laughing. Leo would have thought to bring me carryout as a peace offering, and Mike would see me standing there and trip over his two clumsy feet in his eagerness to tell me this hilarious story about how Leo missed his boat…

I knelt to scoop up a handful of the strange confetti, and some of it slipped off my palm and fluttered back to the ground. I pinch it and rolled a few pieces between my fingers experimentally.

The truth hit me all at once. My gaze shot up to check the walls, the railings of the balcony, the archway above the stairs, hoping so hard that I was mistaken. Pure grief slides into my gut like an icy katana blade as my eyes confirm that the walls are now barren, unadorned.

Leonardo was not back. Somebody had taken down the homecoming decorations and torn ‘em apart. Somebody sat there on the couch, relentlessly tearing and tearing, until there was nothing left but hundreds of tiny, unrecognizable pieces.

I let the bits fall to the floor as all the hope and love that had rekindled like magic inside of me was swiftly crushed. For a moment I could only stand there in the quiet dark, blinking at the sudden flood of salt and heat stinging his eyes, and just… hating our absent brother more than ever.

My bruised and battered hands clenched and unclenched as I stood there, but I would not break down.

Not for him. Not a chance.

 


End file.
